


Mando Adventures

by cripplingmoon



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blindfolds, Boba Fett: The Moment Ruiner, Frottage, Gen, Good Dad Djarin, Grogu is Ticklish, Himbo Din Djarin, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Mayfeld doesn’t trust Jedi, Sad Din Djarin, Sewing, Sick Character, Soft Din Djarin, Swearing, Whump, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28186914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cripplingmoon/pseuds/cripplingmoon
Summary: Drabble Prompt Requests For The Mandalorian!
Relationships: Din Djarin & Cara Dune, Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda, Din Djarin/Male Reader, Din Djarin/Migs Mayfeld, Din Djarin/You, Migs Mayfeld/Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Comments: 44
Kudos: 133





	1. oo1

**Author's Note:**

> I figured I would post my prompts I write here also for you to enjoy. They are also on my tumblr (under the tag dinmadness fics) where you can request or follow! I’m still procrastinating my other stuff. I’m a pos I know but bear with me these last few months have been brutal on my mental capacity. Anyways, enjoy!
> 
> This will be updated as I write them until I stop receiving requests, that’s why it says complete because I’m not sure how many chapters it will be. 
> 
> Follow or request here: [dinmadness](https://dinmadness.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Din Djarin x Male Reader

Request: could you maybe do a mandalorian/ male reader romantic drabble?

—

Perching cross-legged on a stump, Grogu purring contently in your lap as you enjoy the warmth of the setting sun. Hues of orange and purple wash over the Crest as you watch with interest while Din repairs a hole in the ships haul. You ran into a asteroid belt on your way to Tython, one lucky chunk managed to inflict a decent size gouge. Now you are on a small rural planet for the time being. 

You don’t mind hanging around on planets with minimal population, it just means you and Din get to spend more time together, just the two of you and Grogu. You’ve never actually talked to Din about what your relationship was but you didn’t think you needed to. Din was a man of few words and even fewer personal relationships. You were the opposite. Before you met the traveling duo, you were a just a guy who wasn’t tied to one person or place. 

If you were being honest, your life here, with Din and Grogu, made you far happier. 

Shaking from your thoughts, you lean over to rest your elbows on your thighs, touching your nose to the childs head, puffing your cheeks with air. Grogu reacts to the touch and tilts his head up to look at you. When he sees your face, he lets out a burst of giggles. You laugh as you let the air out, placing a kiss on the tiny area between his eyes. Grogu purrs again. 

Your name being called breaks you from the moment, you and the Child look towards the voice. Din has finished the repair and is waving you over. Uncrossing your stiff legs, you stand and go to him, child in arms. 

“Nice patch work.” You say with a sparkle of amusement in your voice. You and the whole galaxy knows Din isn’t the greatest mechanic. 

The mandalorian looks back at the patch of metal haphazardly welded to the haul before he turns back, giving you side eye. “You think you can do better, tough guy?” He challenges. 

You smirk and throw up your free hand in surrender. Din steps closer to you, almost putting you chest to chest if not for Grogu. The child takes advantage of the closeness and grabs Dins chest plate to pull himself over, looking at his reflection. Din carefully slips an arm around you, his hand warm against your lower back, before he turns and leads you three into the razor crest. 

Din takes Grogu and places him in his hammock, tucking him in for a nap. The child snuggles down and his eyes begin to drift shut. 

Once the door is closed he grabs your hand and spins you around, putting your back flush against him. His armor feels cool through the fabric of your tunic. You sigh as he drags his hands over the flat expanse of your stomach and chest until they come to rest across your shoulders. 

You never tire of hearing your name roll off his tongue, so low and soft, it makes you weak in the knees. 

“I have a surprise.” He hums, removing himself from you. Your curiosity is piqued, in all the months you have been staying with the Mandalorian and child, he’s never given you a surprise before. Everything he’s ever given you had a purpose or was a necessity. 

“You’ll need to cover your eyes,” he states as he comes around to face you. You look down and he has a black swath of fabric laid across his open palm. You look up to him, eye brow quirked. 

“Can I just use my hands?” You ask. 

He shakes his head. “Do you trust me?”

Without a doubt, you say in your mind. More than anyone. You don’t say that out loud though, only nod. He brings the cloth up and over your eyes, careful not to tie it too tight. Once he was satisfied, you heard him step away. 

“Can you see anything?” A hint of something you can’t quiet pinpoint is laced in his voice. 

You give a show of looking around, “can’t see a thing.”

He doesn’t say anything back but you can hear rustling before the noise suddenly stops. You are starting to get nervous now. 

After several moment, you are ready to ask if everything is OK but your words die in your throat when you feel the skin of a warm hand ghost over your cheek and into the hair at the nape of your neck. You’re heart is thrumming so loud in your chest you can feel it in your ears and fingertips. Your belly swirls with heat and butterflies. 

You open your mouth to try to speak again but you are silenced by hesitant lips connecting with yours. You hear Din sigh through his nose and he pulls you closer like he fears you will disappear. Finally getting your bearings you bring your hands up to thread into Dins hair, paying no mind to the tangles, tilting your head and deepening the kiss. You lick into his warm mouth and he moans, sending a jolt through you. It takes Din a moment to get into the rythm but when he does it makes your head spin. 

After a few breathless moments he pulls away, his heavy breath warming your cheek. 

“I, um,” the tone is back, you now register it as nervousness. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while. I’m sorry I can’t go as fast as I’m sure you would like, but I want to try...” 

“- it was perfect, Din.” You cut him off, placing your hands on his waist. “I would never want to make you uncomfortable.” 

You feel him physically relax. He moves from your grip and after a moment you feel him untying the blindfold. Your eyes adjust to the light and you smile up at him, silver helmet right where it belongs. He tilts his head to the side in return. You can’t see his face, but you don’t need to.


	2. oo2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din Djarin & Cara Dune

Request: Some Din!whump, maybe din gets hurt protecting Grogu, and Cara has to take care of him? Platonic of course because they're best bros!

—

Din felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness. On his waking moments he hears the child crying and a familiar voice. On his sleeping moments, solemn quiet. 

He remembers glimpses of what happened when his mind isn’t trying to sleep. 

One minute he and Cara are fighting off a herd of troopers, the next Grogu is being ripped from him. He reaches out as the child shrieks. Din’s blind rage seeps through the cracks of his composure and he begins lashing out. No longer relying on his blaster, he picked up a crowbar and swings as hard as he can. Bits of trooper armor shatter to the cosmos until he is able to free the child from the one that stole him. 

Of course, not before the stormtrooper stabs a large rusted piece of metal into the softness under Din’s chest plate, scraping again the bone. 

The audacity, he thinks bitterly as he watches the stormtrooper die. Din feels the slosh of blood run warm down his stomach and over his thigh. Suddenly, Din falls to his knees, the edges of his vision darkening. 

Finally, his mind stops fighting and lets him rest. 

-

Shrill cries sound garbled. His brain unable to register the noise. An instinct inside him gnaws at him to wake up. Grogu. 

Grogu! 

He jerks awake and shoots straight up, head spinning. He takes in his surroundings, thick trees and undergrowth on all sides. He feels the warmth of the fire next to him before he sees it. 

The crying he was hearing is coming from a few feet away. The child, cradled in Caras strong arms, is squirming, cheeks red with tears. 

Upon seeing Din awake, Cara rushes over to kneel beside him, setting the child down onto the ground next to Din. 

Knowing Grogu is safe, Din lays back down, wincing at the sting of his wound. He feels slightly better when he feels the child curl into a ball around his neck, rutting his face up under Dins helmet. 

“Easy now, little guy. Y’gonna knock it off.” Cara laughs as the child relaxes and just curls up. 

“He’s used to sleeping like this on the Crest.” Din mentions, counting in his head how many times he’s woke up to Grogu creeping out of his hammock to snuggle up under his chin. 

Cara smiles at them fondly. “How are you feeling?” 

Din moves around slightly, “Sore.” He carefully looks down at his chest, free of his beskar. A hole in his flight suit has been cut free and white bandages fill the void. 

Cara changes the way she is sitting and gets comfortable. “You should be almost healed.” She carefully presses the edges of the wrapping that are trying to ear. “Your kid tried to heal you a couple times but he has been so frantic it just wore him out. You’ve been asleep for 2 days so I can’t blame him” 

Din reaches up and places a gloved hand on Caras knee. “Thank you.” 

It’s all he said and for Cara, it’s more than enough. She would go through hell or high water for these two, to the ends of the galaxy. 

Cara takes his hand with both of hers for a moment before she stands. “Get some more rest, I’ll keep you both safe.”

Din watches as she picks up her rifle and head towards the edge of the clearing. He hears a soft snore from the child and takes her advice drifting off. 

-

Over the next day or so, with the meticulous care of Cara, Din gets back to normal. 

“Hell of a scar.” She says with a smirk. After getting a closer look at the scar, silvery against the Mandalorians tan skin, she straightens back up. Cara would be lying if she said she wasn’t admiring her handy work. 

“Good story to tell one day.” Din says deadpan. Cara rolls her eyes but can’t help to hide the smile on her face. Din smiles back with the tilt of his head.


	3. oo3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din Djarin x Migs Mayfeld

Request: Din has to break it too Mayfeld that they are married now. Because Mayfeld saw his face and is still alive, so by creed they are married. This goes significantly better then you would expect because Migs went from massively impressed and turned on with Mando’s skill while he was in prison to being in love when he saw how far he would go for his son, and those scared brown eyes.

—

Mayfeld scans the entrance to the mess hall, casually standing watch. He can hear the machine Mando is standing at counting down, 10 9 8 7.... Panic creeps up his esophagus, threatening his airways with its fiery grip. 

6 5 4...

Silence. 

Mayfeld turns to look at Mando and he feels like the grip has finally closed when he sees tousled brown curls. He has to look away, shaking his head gently. Fuck, why’s it s’hot in here? Shifting to lessen his unease, Mayfeld looks back at Mando. It’s like he can’t resist. From the corner of his eye he catches Valin Hess stand and address Mando. 

Fuck, fuck!

Panic is replaced with heavy dread in his stomach as Mayfeld watches the Mandalorian turn to Hess. Even from his place at the door he can see the fear Mando is struggling to contain. It’s a stark difference between the Mando back on the prison ship and now. 

This man, who has never shown his face to anyone since he swore the Creed, standing bare faced in the presence of Imperial scum, all the while Mayfeld cowers in fear of being recognized. He has to do something. If Mando can sacrifice everything to save his child, Mayfeld can stand up to this fucking jerk. 

Quickly and smoothly as he can, Mayfeld shimmies up and inserts himself into the conversation, easing the attention off the Mandalorian. One look from the mans surprised face and Mayfeld was hooked. He was swallowed instantly into the deep abyss of Mando eyes, dark and warm like storm clouds rolling in on a summer evening. In that moment, Mayfeld was prepared to do anything to help this man get his son back. 

The pair (read: Mayfeld) was able to schmooze their way through the conversation. Unfortunately, it took a dark turn when Mayfeld brought up Burning Kann, despite Mando quietly urging him away from the subject. All his past anger began festering and festering the longer Hess spoke. How could Mayfeld be so stupid, how could he think this man would recognize him when all he and all the other stormtroopers were just numbers. He let Mando reveal his face because Mayfeld was a coward. Tears began stinging his eyes. Not anymore he isn’t. 

Fucking scum. 

Mayfeld shoots Hess. Then shoots every bastard in the room. 

Slowing his breathing he looks at Mando and hands his helmet back. He did what he had to and if it helped the Mandalorian get the little green guy back, so be it. Mayfeld can play it off and forget what he saw. 

Never mind the jaw he wants to cut himself on or the stubble he wants to feel scrape his thig... 

Mayfeld is jerked from his inner yearning by blaster fire ringing in his ears. Working together, the pair escaped and boarded Fetts ship. The older Mandalorian landed the vessel and left the two alone to get out of those hideous clothes, promising to monitor the perimeter. 

The duo changed with their backs to each other in silence. Tension thick in the air. 

Unbearably quiet, if Mayfeld was honest. He had to say something. 

He stops removing the flight suit, stinky as it may be and spins on his heels. The words die in his throat when he finds Mando is already staring at him, most of his beskar back where it should be. Brown eyes burrowing into his own blue. 

Quick to look away, Mayfeld drops his eyes to the metal floor. “Hey man, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know what to say. He wants to touch and feel and see everything that is this Mandalorian. 

“There are rules.” 

Mayfeld flinches. The Mandalorians voice is level and so soft. “You’ve seen my face.”

Mayfeld brings up his arms, a little worried. “I ain’t never seen your face, Mando. I swear it.”

“Din.” Is all he says in return. 

Mayfeld looks up a little further in question, now looking at the others chest plate. The armor shining in the light coming through the large panes of glass. From this distance Mayfeld can see his warped reflection. If he wasn’t so uncomfortable he’d crack a wise-ass joke. But nows not the time. 

“My name is Din, Din Djarin. Look at me.” He demands. 

Fuck, Mayfeld is weak. Doing as he is told he raises his head up meeting Dins eyes. Warm, warm, warm. 

Din steps closer. “By seeing my face you are bound to me by Mandalorian law.” 

Mayfeld quirks a brow, hackles raising, his pale cheeks flush with embarrassment. “What, like a fucking servant?”

Mando shakes his head, a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “More like a riduur.” Mayfeld is silent, Din takes it as a hint the other doesn’t understand. “Partner, cyar'ika, beloved.”

A lightbulb clicks on above Mayfelds head. His face burns now, as red as his beard. 

Oh. 

Mayfeld lowers the walls he was quickly building. The fear that was starting to claw again gets swept away in the relief that washes over him. 

“Well damn, Mando, I thought you’d never say.” Mayfeld closes the gap between them and drags Din down by his curls into a hot, slow kiss. Quiet moans swirl around them in the silence of the ship, just Mayfeld and Din. 

Finally pulling back for air, Mayfeld smiles at the other before he leans over to grab the silver helmet to place back on, stopping just above his nose to steal one more gentle kiss. 

“Now, let’s go get your kid back, shall we?”


	4. oo4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has the frottage so if that makes you uncomfortable or anything don’t read this one. 
> 
> If you do like it, go easy on me it’s my first time writing this kind of thing. I usually fade to black before anything starts so this is new.
> 
> Din Djarin x Migs Mayfeld

Request: I would love to see more of the helmetless scene in the imperial cafeteria- maybe that imperial officer- Valin Hess-is all over Din, trying to drag him away to do what he wants with him- maybe he even touches him up, Din has no idea what to do being so stressed without a helmet, mayfeld sees this from afar and comes over to rescue Din. post getting out of the imperial base much kissing and hotness between mayfield and Din. 

—

Dins stomach drops like a lead weight when he hears Valin Hess call for him. He screws his eyes shut and pulls the datastick from the terminal. Hess calls again and Din turns to face him. The Imp office was closer than he anticipated, he could smell the dust on the officers uniform that’s gathered from the hazy air. 

“Well, well, well trooper.” Hess rakes his eyes up and down the Mandalorians body, hunger flashes across his features. “That’s an awful nice face to be hiding under that helmet.” 

Din feels his skin crawl. He’s uncomfortably hot and the borrowed uniform feels too tight but he’s cemented in place by the weight of his identity on display. The sensory overload of the room causes Din to miss the movement of the Imp stepping closer. He only notices when he feels a hand on his bicep. Mando stares at the hand for a moment before he looks back at Hess, a perverse smile plastered across the other mans face. 

“It’s normally against regulation to fraternize with our subordinates, but for such a pretty face I think I can pull some strings.” Din feels bile rise in his throat when Hess places his thumb on his jaw. 

Suddenly, Hess is jerked back away from the frightened man. Din snaps his head over to see Mayfeld step between them. His heart pounds so hard in his chest he feels the pulse in his fingertips.

“Why don’t you back off?” Mayfeld bites, he’s seething, the fucking nerve of this guy. “Can’t you tell he isn’t interested.”

Hess straightens his uniform, a deep scowl on his face. “Why don’t you mind your own business, pretty boy and I were just having some fun.”

Din can see Mayfeld tense beside him, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. The Mandalorian reaches out and taps the other, shaking his head slightly when Mayfeld locks eyes with him. 

But before Din can react, Mayfeld pulls his blaster and fires, ripping a hole in the Imps chest. It goes to hell in a handbag as Din expects. The pair fight their way out of the compound, Din able to focus better with his face covered. 

————

A moment to relax alone, Mayfeld and Din take their time getting changed. Mayfeld is out of the flight suit and back into his own trousers before he sits down. 

He’s watching the Mandalorian change out of that terrible uniform. Watching as tan skin moves over muscles in his back as he struggles to put on his long sleeve top. Finally frustrated enough, Din removes the helmet and places it down to put on the shirt. Mayfeld thinks about what it would be like to run his fingers through those soft brown waves, what kind of sounds the other would make. Fuck. Mayfeld shifts in his seat, his pants suddenly uncomfortable. 

“Thank you for that back there.” Dins voice breaks the unreadable tension in the ship. He turns to Mayfeld. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Mayfeld can’t get over the eyes. They are more than he can handle. “Don’t worry about it, that guy is a fucking creep to be touching you.” He waves a hand dismissively. 

Din nods softly. Mayfeld looks at the floor, struggling to keep eyes contact, worried the other can read his thoughts. The dark haired man clears his throat. Mayfeld looks back and notices Din’s soft eyes scanning his bare chest. 

Suddenly shy, Mayfeld crosses his arms, poor excuse of coverage. 

“I think I need to thank you properly.” 

Mayfeld starts to sweat, his body burning like he has a fever. “Oh yeah, do’ya have anything in mind?” 

Loaded fucking question. 

Din steps forward and uncrosses Mayfelds arms, with no resistance, letting them drop to his sides. Oh so carefully, the Mandalorian settles his thighs on both sides of Mayfeld, holding onto both shoulders. The weight of the taller man is delicious and without thinking Mayfeld grips Dins ass and drags him closer, whining at the friction of the fabrics. His head drops back when Din repeats the action, rolling his hips in just the right way. 

“Fuck, Mando.” He breathes. 

He lifts his head up and a desire floods his mind when he sees how dark Dins eyes have become, pupils blown wider than the fucking galaxy. “You’re killing me, brown eyes.”

That’s all it takes for Din to give in. He kisses Mayfeld with a force he didn’t know he had, holding him close by the back of his neck. Licking into Mayfelds mouth, Din moans into it, biting and tugging at his lower lip. He can’t seem to get enough of Mayfeld, he wants to taste every part of him. Bite red into his pale skin. 

Craving more friction, he starts grinding his hips again with more and more pressure, relishing in the others breathy moans like he’s starving for it. Mayfeld pulls from the kiss to bite at the soft flesh on Dins clothed shoulder, panting unabashedly with each roll of Mandos hips. “Fuck,” he groans, his grip on Dins thighs turn bruising as he gets closer to blissful release. “Fuck, so fucking good.” 

The praise fuels the fire in Dins belly as he continues his movements until they both crash over the edge. Din claws his way up Mayfeld back, leaving red indents in his wake. 

Out of breath, Din leans forward to rest his head on Mayfelds shoulder, legs like jelly from holding his own weight. Din doesn’t bother moving. Mayfeld shifts a little to get comfortable but let’s Din rest, finally getting to run his fingers through his damp hair. 

They can finish getting dressed in a bit.


	5. oo5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din Djarin & Baby Grogu

Request: Din teaching himself to sew cuz Grogu got a hole in his favourite onesie. 

—

Din hears struggled cries come from the sleeping pod from his seat in the pilots chair. He stands abruptly and grips the rails of the ladder and slides down quickly opening the pod door. Inside, in his hammock, the child is wiggling frustratedly. The Mandalorian grips him under his arms to assess the situation and notices one of his little green feet sticking out of the side of his soft burlap onesie. He tucks the child into the crook of his elbow and carefully pushes the foot back through. The child relaxes once his leg is free. Babbling happily to his father. 

“Well, now what?” He asks the child, not really expecting an answer. Poking his gloved finger into the tear he feels the soft belly of the child, this elicits bubbly laughter from the child, Din laughs right along with him. Setting the child down in the bunk he removes the onesie from him, careful not to harm his large ears. The child fought him a little but otherwise both came out of it unscathed. Grabbing a thin blanket, he wraps it around the childs small body and tucks it around him, sure to keep him warm while Din works. Fabric in hand, he scans the ship for anything he can use, he knows he needs something sharp but thin. Humming to himself, he thinks of the perfect thing. He grabs a old wooden staff that an unfortunate bounty was trying to fight Din with.

Grabbing both ends, the Mandalorian brings the staff down hard on his thigh plate, splintering it in half. He picks a decent piece and breaks it off and gets to work widdling down the sliver to something sharp. He grabs his cape and pulls a fray and gets a piece of string. Threading it thought a slit in the wood Din gets ready. He holds up the fabric and pauses. How was this supposed to work? 

He looks up at the child who is drifting in and out of sleep sitting up. A small smile ghosts over his lips. Looks like he’s on his own...not that the child would be much help. 

Din lays the fabric out over his thigh and try’s to stitch it back together. Once he is finished he hold it up and a deep frown forms. The stitch is barely holding together and Din can see straight through the gaps. 

“Dank farrik,” Din scoffs. He pulls the thread from the onesie and starts again. Taking notes of how the other side is, he pinches the fabric and begins weaving the splinter in and out of the material, taking his time this round. After stabbing his fingers a few times he finally gets the seam closed again. Holding the fabric up, he admires his handy work. The two edges closed, no light peaking through any gaps. 

With a satisfied nod he stands and walks over to the child. He strokes the rim of his ear until he stirs awake. 

“Fixed it.” He says pointedly. He child coos up at Din, raising his little arms out of the blanket, ready to be redressed. 

Feeding his head through the top, ears popping out comically when it fit a down where it should be. 

The child inspects the stitching and giggles, murmuring incoherent words. “Yeah, good as new.” Din agrees.


	6. oo6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din Djarin x Migs Mayfeld

Request: anything migs / din but maybe something from mandos POV yearning for migs and dealing with the whole Being Seen By Someone thing. 

—

It starts like a dull ache. A need that churns in his belly so low that if he were to search for it, he wouldn’t be able to find it. Despite that, it’s consuming. So consuming, every time Din is in the proximity of Mayfeld he feels the gravity pulling and tugging at him, pulling Din into his orbit. 

But now, after everything, it’s no longer a dull thud in his chest. It’s almost overwhelming. An itch that Din can’t satisfy, can’t reach far enough. So it just burns, embers under his bleeding heart.

Migs, for all it’s worth, tries not to act different after what happened. Din doesn’t blame him but it doesn’t make the brush-off hurt any less. He understands what Mayfeld is feeling, fear and vulnerability and guilt...because Din is feeling it too. There isn’t anything in this galaxy that he wouldn’t do for that innocent child and taking his helmet off is no different. But that should be his burden to bear, not Mayfelds. 

Still, there is a shift in the atmosphere around them that the others can’t pick up on it is so subtle. Mayfeld will look the other way if Din addresses him, eyes scanning other things as he answers. If they come to stand next to each other Mayfeld will shift to his other foot, leaning the opposite way. Every single time, one of the smoldering embers goes out. 

Din wants to confront him and tell him it’s fine but he can’t. A deep gnawing of rejection keeps his mouth shut. Don’t be so selfish, his mind will scold. 

No, he bites back. No. 

—

The third sun is setting on the planet they are currently stationed on. The trip to Moffs cruiser is taking longer than Din had hoped but this is the final stretch and they need to rest. Din is finishing up laying out his blanket for sleep when he hears Mayfeld step out of Fetts ship. His arms towering above his head as he stretches his muscles, a sliver of pale skin glows in the light from his shirt riding up. Din abandons his task and walks over to the other man. 

“We need to talk.” He says pointedly, leaving no room for refusal. He turns and heads to the front of the Slave 1 to be out of earshot of the others. Once they are both at the front, Migs stops short a few feet away from Din. 

“What’s up Mando?” He asks into the quiet, crossing his arms. 

Din doesn’t say anything at first. His throat suddenly very dry. Finally swallowing hard, he’s able to speak. “I understand you are angry over what happened in that Imperial Base but I am sorry, I had to do it.” 

He drops his head slightly to gaze at the ground, unable to look at Migs. His nerves are on fire and the brush of his clothing against his skin is unbearable under the scrutiny. 

“I’m confused?” Din looks up into Mayfeld blue eyes. “Mando, you think I’m mad at you?” 

When he doesn’t answer, Mayfeld runs a hand down his own face. “God I’m such an asshole. I’m not mad at you. Why would you think that?”

Embarrassment burns on Dins cheeks. “You have been brushing me off and acting different. What did you expect me to think?”

Mayfeld stares at him for a moment. His previously pinched face is softer now, wrinkles in his brow smooth. “You really are an idiot. I am only doing that because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

That catches Din off guard. Mayfelds face flushes red. 

“I can’t stop thinking about your face and how much I want to see it again but I’m not a selfish bastard, Mando. I would never ask you to do it again.” Mayfelds voice cracks, he screws his eye shut. “So I figured if I stayed away from you these feelings would go away but I’m reminded of them every fucking time I see you.” 

Din can’t form words and it’s frustrating. The only thing he can physically do is close the gap between them and wrap the taller man into an embrace. Mayfeld leans his head down and pushes it into Dins neck, fisting the fabric of his cape. Little by little, the embers start to burn again, brighter and brighter.


	7. oo7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Migs Mayfeld/Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first of all, how dare you make me write this. Second of all, I’ve been talking to a friend about emotional closure for Din and how much I wanted it but the only thing I’ve done here is hurt myself. I’m not gonna lie, I cried while writing this, the emotion of the episode are still fresh. 
> 
> Written for: [Faolan_Orion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faolan_Orion/pseuds/Faolan_Orion). I don’t know if this is what you were expecting but I hope you still like it!

Request: After saving The Child and leaving him the safe care of the Jedi. Mando and Migs continue to travel together. Din is incredibly depressed about having to leave his son behind and Migs doesn't know how to help. Migs thankfully remember the name of a a man Mando once told him about, an old lover on Tatooine, Cobb Vanth. Can Mando's two boyfriends manage to get him out of his depressed state?

——

Migs is starting to worry about his partner. It’s been one week since Din watched that Jedi douchebag walk away with his kid. Migs doesn’t take kindly to pretty boys who separate families. The ex-imperial officer is not as oblivious to what these, so-called peacekeepers, actually do. 

It isn’t Mayfelds place to say what is right or wrong in this situation. Din knew what he had to do and he kept his promise to the child. Mayfeld can’t remember the last time he’s felt so sick to his stomach, watching the pure devastation overtake the Mandalorians face. Once the doors closed Din bent down and placed his helmet back on. The physical representation of building a wall around himself. He turned to the rest of the group and had Fennec radio for Fett. When the others tried to comfort him he turned the other way, a crisp “I’m fine.” is his only response. Once Fett shows up, Din request that he takes him to Nevarro, he wants to find a new ship. 

Now, Mayfeld and Din have long said their goodbyes and are now traveling through the black abyss of space. The ship has been quiet. Din has barely said two words to Mayfeld since they’ve left Nevarro. Mayfeld understands, and he’s not selfish enough to think he deserves to be spoken too. He is, however, selfless enough to know that it isn’t healthy for the Mandalorian. He’s not eating and occasionally Mayfeld can hear soft cries coming from his sleeping bunk. His whole persona has shifted into something broken. It’s gut wrenching. 

He’s got to think of something to help ease the pain. Mayfeld stews on it for a little while and finally remembers Din talking about someone he left on Tatooine. A Marshall of a small sandy village, Cobb Vanth. 

Once Din retired to his bunk, Mayfeld sends a transmission to Vanth explaining the situation and prays that the other will get the message and help. 

—

It takes a day for the Marshall to get back but when he does he plays it well. No sooner than Din sat in the pilot seat a hologram plays, it’s Vanth. Migs watches as his helmet tilts to the side slightly as the other talks, explaining that he is having some issues with raiders and he needs the Mandalorians help. Din nods and charts the course.

—

They ended up being close to Tatooine so it only took a few hours to get there in hyperdrive. Once they were on the planet Din borrowed some land speeders and they headed out. Migs only asked vague question so he didn’t give away the plan. The Mandalorian answered briefly.  
Once they made it to the small town, Din heads straight to a cantina, no doubt where they will find the Marshall. Mayfeld scans the beige interior of the cantina and searches until he finds Din coming to a stop in front of a tall, skinny man. The complete opposite of the Mandalorian. 

“Hey Mando, good to see you again.” Vanth said standing to greet Din. Mayfeld watches his hunched shoulders fall as the taller one places a hand on the bend of his neck, this thumb ghosting under his helmet. 

After a moment, Din finally speaks and his voice is dry from being unused. “The raiders?” He asks. Vanth looks past Dins head and into the eyes of Mayfeld before he looks back the Mandalorian. 

“Let’s just catch up,” he motions towards the door. 

“Introduce me to your friend here.” Din turns to look at Mayfeld. 

“‘M not really-“ 

Vanth cut him off, turning him toward the door and urging him out into the hot sun. The pair followed the Marshall into a small home just past the cantina. Inside was simple, the basic needs of man. A large soft looking bed, a small kitchen and dining and a fresher. 

“When did the raiders start attacking?” Din asks as he sits down at the small two seater dining table. His whole demeanor bleeds tired. 

Vanth looks at Migs again and they both nod at each other. The Marshall turns back to Din. “There are actually no raiders. I needed a reason to get you here.” He goes to squat in front of the Mandalorian. 

“You’re friend here is worried about you,” he jerks a thumb in Mayfelds direction before he continues. “He told me what happened.”

Din looks at Mayfeld and if he could see his face he knows it’s full of hurt that Mayfeld would go behind his back. Mayfeld flushes pink with embarrassment and shame. 

“I am fine.” He bites as he stands abruptly. Vanth has to grab the table leg to keep his balance. “Why wouldn’t I be fine?” 

He makes like he is asking the pair but he doesn’t look at either of them at any point. 

“It isn’t like the one thing- the only thing -that I have ever truly cared about, I just gave up.” His whole stance shifts as he back away from the dining table. Mayfeld and Vanth stand on edge. “As if, every fucking day I don’t remind myself that it was my mission from the start. That I knew what I was doing-“ his voice breaks and Mayfeld knows what that means. 

“Hey, Mando, you know you can’t beat yourself up.” Migs takes a step closer, he wants to reach out but he’s afraid. “You’ll see the little guy again.” 

Din looks to Mayfeld. “What if I don’t?” He backs away further until he meets the bed and he sits heavily. He rips his helmet off without care and digs his the gloved heel of his palms into his eyes. Sobs overtake him and he cries harder than he has in a long time. All the emotions he has been withholding in the week since their separation spills out of him like a storm, tearing away at the structure. 

Mayfeld watches as Vanth walks over and unclips his chest and shoulder plates and stacks them on the table along with his helmet. He goes back and places a kiss on his bent head before he pushes him back so he is laying down further up on the bed, Din giving no resistance. The Marshall crawls into the bed with him, wrapping the distraught man into his arms as he cries silently, Vanth cards his fingers through his dark waves. 

Mayfeld feels like he is intruding so he goes to leave but he is stopped by a soft voice. He looks back and Vanth is waving him over, holding his hand out. Mayfeld takes his hand and slots himself behind the Mandalorian and wraps his arms around his waist and up, placing his hand over Dins heart. 

They lay like that until Din finally sleeps. The other two eventually fall asleep also. It isn’t a cure for the heavy sadness but when Din wakes in the morning surrounded by two people that love him, he knows he will get through this until he can be reunited with his son.


	8. oo8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din Djarin & Cara Dune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for: [ Whumptastic ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whumptastic/pseuds/Whumptastic). Sorry for the delay! I hope you enjoy it, I love Cara and Mandos friendship!

Request: could you maybe do a whump fic about, idk, Din having a bad cold or something but trying to hide it from Cara/Grogu?

—

Cara watches Din carefully over the top of her boots as he sits down in one of her desk facing chairs. Her eyes scan him, taking in the small details. Something isn’t quite right. The man is giving off vibes like she’s never seen before. She wants to ask what’s wrong but she doesn’t want to pry. The Mandalorian gives little away about himself unless it involves the child. 

“So, how are you holding up?” She asks carefully, hiding the concerning tone well enough. Din shrugs as he sets the child down in the seat next to him. Cara watches as Grogu fights being put down, small green hands gripping his fathers forearm plates. Once released he holds his arms up to be held again. Din wags his finger - no - and the child stops and plops down with a sigh, his long green ears falling, defeated. 

“What’s up with him?” She quirks an eyebrow. The Mandalorian looks down at the child and back to Cara, he only shrugs again. 

Something is up. He’s been acting strange for a few days now. Cara is thinking she is going to give up on being considerate and just ask what the hell is wrong. 

“Alright, what’s going on?” She drops her feet and leans on the desk clasping her hands together. “You’ve been acting strange. Spill it!” She demands. 

He sits stalk still for a moment. “Nothing is wrong.” He finally says crossing his arms. 

Such a liar, she scoffs. 

Without warning, one of the officers under Cara opens the door and a breeze from the cool evening air swishes past the trio and Cara catches the shiver that overtakes the fully covered man. The officer placed a file down and gives her a brief detailing of the days work. 

She watches from the corner of her eye, the child try’s to get Din to hold him again. She dismisses the officer with a small smile and a thank you. 

Cara turns her attention back to the two. “Whatever you say.”

The Mandalorian nods his head and goes to grab something from from his belt when suddenly he is overtaken with a coughing fit. They sound deep and guttural and wet. Grogu starts to fuss beside him but Din puts a hand down to calm him, the child grabs his fingers. Cara rises swiftly from her seat and over to her friend, placing a hand on his back, she can almost feel the fever through his layers. 

Once the fit is over, he looks up at Cara who is scowling. 

“Care to tell me what the hell is going on?” When she is certain he is done, she walks back around to sit in her seat. “How long have you been sick?”

Din let’s out a broken sigh as his shoulders droop. The child flails his arms around towards Cara for attention and murmurs something that sounds like he’s answering for the Mandalorian. She smiles at him and nods to his father, Grogu takes it as the OK to crawl back into his lap. He begins to purr once he is content, pulling a necklace from beneath his clothes that he starts chewing on. 

“I have something you can take.” She says finally and disappearing behind a door for a moment. When she returns, she sets the bottle on the table and pushes it until it’s just on the edge of the desk. “Seriously, take a cap full every 6 hours for a couple days and you’ll be good as new.” 

Din tilts his head to the side slightly before leaning over, careful not to squish Grogu, and picks up the bottle. He examines it for a moment before placing it in his belt. 

“Thank you.” He says quietly. 

Cara nods with a smile and they continue their meeting. 

After a couple hours of catching up, they say their goodbyes and Din and Grogu set off. Not without a firm, but gentle, reminder to take the medicine that she gave him. 

-

A week or so passes and Cara is currently roaming the streets. Waving and smiling to her people as they hustle and bustle around. The air is crisp today, the chill from days past sticking around. Deciding to head back to her office (essentially no longer able to avoid her paperwork), she notices a familiar ship in the distance. The Crest shining in the afternoon sun. 

Just as she expects, her friend and his son are seated like before, waiting patiently. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” She asks, patting his shoulder as she round the desk. 

“I wanted to drop by and thank you again.” He pokes his first finger and thumb into his belt and pulls out the bottle of medicine. “Wanted to return the rest.”

Cara waves him off as he tries to hand it back. “Keep it, I have plenty to share. Never know if you will need it again.” 

Din slowly pulls his arm back and places the bottle back on his person. “Thank you.” He says again. 

Cara smiles warmly and tells him anytime.


	9. oo9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din Djarin x Migs Mayfeld

Request: Would love just LOADS of kissing between Din and mayfeld, so caught up in it they don’t hear people coming in. Just lots of wonderful smooching for our touch starved darling Din who can’t get enough of it. And mayfeld who can’t believe his luck :)

—

It started after they got back to the Slave I. They were running on raw adrenaline, it threaded through their veins faster than their hearts could pump it. Their skin buzzed and their fingers trembled. All of that emotion combined with the tension in the ship set them on fire. 

First it was slow, Din was hesitant to go further. Having been so long since he has felt the touch of another living being on his own flesh was intimidating to say the least, but he continued. His mind has been constantly fretting about his son, the only thing he has thought about since he was taken. 

In this moment though, he wasn’t. 

He felt heavy, pitiful shame bubbles in his stomach as Mayfeld placed a warm hand on his jaw, his last few fingers curling around the shell of his ear. The other pale hand ghosts over his neck and into his hair, igniting tingles on his scalp. Slowly, the shame melts away and his breath hitches at the sensation. Mayfeld took it as a sign to close the gap. And he did.

They moved together slowly, soft closed mouth kisses at first. Both testing the waters, seeing if it was just a junky high from the shootout, neither wanted to push further than the other wanted to go. 

Finally, Mayfeld took a risk, he darted his tongue out to trace Dins lower lip. He decided it was a risk worth taking when the dark haired man opened his mouth slightly to allow access. Slow closed kissing moved to open mouth and Din was eating it up. 

It’s been so long since he has felt anything like this. Even before, on the occasional meeting there wasn’t any feeling behind it, not really. Before, he had never removed his helmet so there was already a obvious disconnect with the other person but with Mayfeld, it wasn’t like that. 

Mayfeld pulled back for air, his breathing on the verge of panting from lack of oxygen. Din felt cold from the loss of skin. “You sure you ain’t never kissed anybody?” 

Din try’s not to feel self-conscious of Mayfelds observation. “No.” Is all he gives. 

Mayfeld hums, “I would’ve never known.”

He closes the gap again and this time there’s a little more heat. He walks the Mandalorian back until he’s against the cold steel of the inner haul. Mayfeld puts himself flush against Din and slips a thigh between his legs, smirking when it elicits a moan. He breaks and reinitiates the kiss over and over, teasing, making the Mandalorian whimper. 

Mayfeld holds Dins face gently, feeling the scrape of facial hair against his palms and thumbs. He tilts his head slightly and go back in for more, licking deeper into his mouth. Tasting the warmth. The Mandalorians head is spinning, he’s delirious with hunger for Mayfeld. He pushes the ginger back slightly and unzips both their flight suits to pull them down to expose their contrasting chests. Mayfeld grins and leans down to bite at Dins shoulder, placing little nips and kisses all the way up his neck and back to his lips. 

Din opens up beautifully for Mayfeld and lets himself be devoured by the skilled man. 

Things start getting increasingly hot and heavy between them. Din moves slightly against Mayfelds thigh and Mayfeld lets his hands roam freely over the Mandalorians soft flushed skin, the muscles reacting like a man starved of contact. Mayfeld hopes he gets the opportunity to remedy that feeling but he won’t pressure Din. 

Lost in the swirl of soft moans and the sounds of their mouths, neither of them noticed the door open, both too caught up in their own world. 

It takes a louder noise to break them from their paradise. They turn to the sound and both their stomachs drop. The noise was Boba Fett sitting down a large duffle of weapons, his face twisted into a slight smirk. Mayfeld takes quick action and stands in front of Din, blocking his face from the other. It is too far too late but Mayfeld feels protective over the Mandalorian. 

“Would you perfer I return later?” Boba asks, eyeing the two flustered men. Boba can’t see the other Mandalorians face but he can see his disheveled hair over the taller mans shoulder. His previous smirk has shifted into a fond smile. 

“My apologies, Fett.” Mayfeld can hear the tinniness of Dins voice. He steps out to stand next to him, the shining helmet back over his tousled locks. “Just a few more moments and we will be ready to go.” 

Boba nods and turns to leave, the door hissing shut behind him. They hear his footsteps fade. 

“Wow, brown eyes.” Mayfeld grins as he brings Din closer to him, pressing a kiss to the beskar. “We should do that again sometime.”


End file.
